A/N: Hiya! Here's the first author back for a sparkly chapter three. We still haven't worked out a way to jointly reply – short of intercontinental telepathy which is made even more complicated by the different timezones and university on both sides of the world – but we'll come up with something soon! Until then, thank you for your awesomeness, interest and support, and here's the next chapter!


3. His Victory

Vamdemon was disturbed just before dark by the presence of something just outside chamber. Not his servants – though he had warned them time and time again to not interfere with his rest.

But he knew his servants. All of them. And the presence that had disturbed him was not one of them, though two did linger outside.

Or perhaps linger was the wrong word. One was being rather vocal.

Vamdemon frowned. They knew better than that. He sent a bat in warning, and elicited a shriek. Picodevimon. And Tailmon too by the sounds of it.

He'd hoped for better from Tailmon, but she'd been quite…inadequate lately. He wondered if he was losing his grip on her.

Well, no matter. There's all the time in the world for discipline – once the eighth child is found.

He opened his eyes slowly and let them drink in the darkness of his quarters, where the accursed burning light of the human world couldn't reach. He'd have to do something about that at some point. It was a weakness after all: a weakness he abhorred like other weaknesses.

But, for now, there was a greater weakness to deal with.

'Why aren't you searching for the Eighth Chosen like the others?' he said, voice low and yet echoing and carrying through the door. It opened with a wave of his hand, and a panicked PicoDevimon and a contemplative Tailmon were revealed.

Why is she looking at her paws like that?

Ignoring PicoDevimon's babbling, he addressed her. 'I expect better from you, Tailmon.'

'My Lord.' She looked up, her eyes bright. 'I –'

PicoDevimon laughed. 'Where's that success you were bragging about before?'

Tailmon shot him a look. Vamdemon latched onto the word. 'Success? Of what sort?'

'I – ' Tailmon closed her eyes. 'I believe I have…apprehended the eighth child.'

PicoDevimon all but fell out of the air, and even Vamdemon couldn't keep the surprise off his face. Apprehended? As in killed? It had been that easy.

'She knew about Digimon,' she continued. 'She asked if I was a friend of Agumon's while other humans didn't spare me a second glance.' Her expression scrunched. 'Thought I was a common house pet.'

'Hmm...' It was true. The human race was remarkably ignorant about Digimon, save the Chosen Children. But that was hardly proof. 'And the crest?'

Tailmon touched her chest; the crest copy he'd given her and she'd hung there was noticeably absent.

Vamdemon frowned, and summoned his crimson whip. Both PicoDevimon and Tailmon shrunk back. 'Please, your evilness,' Tailmon begged. 'I lost the crest, but –'

'Fool!' Vamdemon thundered, letting it snap forth and catching her where she'd worn that crest before. PicoDevimon scampered back, well out of reach. 'Without the crest, you have no proof it's the eighth child!'

'I do,' Tailmon sobbed, clutching herself. 'I do have proof.' And from her glove she pulled something out and held it before her.

Vamdemon narrowed his eyes and retracted the whip. On Tailmon's paws lay a digivice, just like the ones those other children carried.

'She stole it off one of the other – ' PicoDevimon scoffed, fear lacing it. Fear of success – because it was proof as strong as there could be without the crest to testify. And that meant Tailmon had won. Yes, it could be one of the other Chosen's – but that was a remarkable feat as well. One PicoDevimon had tried to accomplish and yet had failed.

Vamdemon ignored him

Something began to glow in the chamber as the Ultimate digimon took a step closer to that proof. The crest of light, hidden in the folds of his cloak. With a sudden, wild, growl, he ripped it from his body and tossed it. It flew past Tailmon's ears and clattered onto the steps that ascended towards the lawn above, where it glowed a little less.

The digivice in Tailmon's paws glowed as well, but while it sent PicoDevimon shrieking and flying as far away from both sources of light as he dared, it seemed to do nothing to Tailmon. Indeed, she felt no blistering or burning – but rather, a sense of longing and familiarity…

But Vamdemon was watching her, and that digivice was only her proof, that she'd taken from that girl's house with claws stained in blood.

'Well done, Tailmon.' Vamdemon said finally, as the light began to die, and a crack appeared in the digivice's grey screen. Tailmon watched as it slowly spread like venom, before splintering and causing her, finally, to drop it.

It clattered on the cold hard floor in two pieces. Behind them, on the stairs where no-body was looking, the crest also broke in two.

A smirk began to grow on Vamdemon's face. The eighth digivice and crest were now both destroyed – presumably that meant Tailmon was indeed correct, and the eighth child was dead. He would have liked the honour himself…

But now he could play with the remaining seven to his heart's content.

But a certain cat still needs to learn the lesson of obedience again.